


Of a Damsel which came girt with a Sword...

by Kittheworthy



Category: Le Morte d'Arthur - Thomas Malory, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, F/M, Female!Arthur, Female!Merlin, Femslash, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rule 63, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:46:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittheworthy/pseuds/Kittheworthy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>fem!Merlin fem!Arthur<br/>It is the end of a long summer campaign against King Gorlois and his magical allies but for Artura Pendragon, celebrated warrior daughter of King Uther, the battle is far from over. With troubles and secret enemies in her own camp threatening to break the company apart, the last thing she needs is to be made responsible for a disrespectful, surly prisoner who turns out to be considerably more trouble than she's worth...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The prisoners were a disappointing lot.

Artura and her men had been rounding up the last of Gorlois’ eastern forces while her father pushed further north. It was bitter unworthy work; those who continued to resist were small broken forces and there was little satisfaction in crushing them. The best she could hope for was to collect a handful of noble born hostages to bring to the bargaining table, but even these were few and far between. Only the desperate fought on in this place, as the four pathetic figures before her showed only too well.

They had anticipated a sizeable force camped out in the woods, but when they managed to lure them out they found no more than a dozen swords, all exhausted and badly equipped.

“Princess,” said Sir Leon, “these are the only survivors. Ah...Cenred’s men have been holding them these few days past.”

Artura grimaced. Sir Leon knew as well as she did that they had little enough to spare for the extra mouths to feed, but they were both agreed on their dubious ally and his treatment of prisoners. His actions dishonoured them all and she couldn’t be seen to comply with them.

 And besides, those who were not worth much as hostages would fetch them a decent enough price from slavers. There was a town not two day’s ride from here and that would ease the burden somewhat. It was not a solution that sat well with Artura, but neither was the issue open for discussion with the King. In war at least, she was his general before his daughter and she would not question him.

“Who have we got then?” she asked, trying to keep the weariness out of her voice.

“Two brothers, younger sons of house Rainer, their squire and...ah...Merlin, my lady.”

Artura tried to scour her patchy knowledge of the noble houses of the land. _Rainer...an old house, poor but distinguished. Five sons in total?_ There would not be much to be gained from their ransom, but their status demanded that she treat them with dignity. She really ought to let them keep their squire too...and the other...such an odd name...

“Merlin of house...?”

“Of peasant stock it seems, my lady.” Artura raised an eyebrow. It was unlike Leon to bother her with the foot soldiers. “I thought you might prefer I brought her to you.”

_Her?!_

Artura lifted her eyes in surprise and properly looked at the figure for the first time.

She was dressed in simple men’s travel garb and her hair was cropped to her chin and hung messily in dark tangles about her face, but it was clear enough she was a maid on second glance, though barely comely. 

Still, she knew now why Leon had brought her along. Under Artura’s command, any form of rape was punishable by death, but there were no such rules for Cenred’s men.

She calculated quickly that the prisoners would have been in Cenred’s hands for perhaps four days or more. It was better not to speculate, but there was something in the girl’s bearing that...well she would find out soon enough.

“Leon is there space for her in the outgoing wagon?”

The older knight shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Princess. If you would allow me to make the suggestion, I thought perhaps with your own servant wounded...”

The notion and his awkwardness tickled her.

“A lady’s maid? On the battlefield? I dare say the idea appeals to _you_ Sir Leon.”

The old knight was devotedly loyal to her, but he had ever been a stickler for tradition. He actually blushed at this, though it was barely visible beneath his beard unless you knew to look for it.

“She’s been through the binding rites so she can pose no threat, my Lady,” he replied, stiffly.

The prisoner’s shoulders tensed a little at the mention of that. It was a small movement but Artura had been trained to notice these things and she was good at it.

 _When it occurs to you to pay attention, that is,_ she added sardonically to herself, remembering that she had failed even to identify her as a member of her own sex not a moment ago.

“How cheering: a servant who would see me dead but no longer has the capacity for free will. What a happy pair we shall be.”

Sir Leon continued to look at her uncomfortably with his mournful eyes. She knew what he was thinking: that there was little else to be done with her save insult the noble hostages by placing her with them or send her back to be used by Cenred’s dogs.

“Alright Sir Leon, have it your way!” she finally conceded attempting at least to appear as if she had another choice. “Have her cleaned up and brought to my tent.”

It was, of course, only a temporary arrangement. A prisoner was no fitting servant for a princess, but the honour might at least attract the girl a better calibre of master when they sold her at the next town.

Either way, she wouldn’t be putting up with this _Merlin_ for long.

\-----------

When she finally returned to her tent that evening, Artura had nearly forgotten about her new maidservant and the sight of the pale despondent figure standing in the middle of the room took her by surprise.

_How long had she been there?_

The trouble with obedience binding was that it could be rather too literal. If somebody had ordered the girl to stand there, then that is what she would have been able to do.

Merlin did not seem to notice the princess entering and Artura wondered if she had fallen asleep on her feet, but as she moved closer she saw that the girl was awake, but with her eyes  closed tight and her face deep in concentration.

Artura put a hand gingerly on her shoulder and the girl immediately swung round, her eyes opened wide but staring somewhere far beyond. She had seemed about to attempt to lash out when a spark of recognition came back to her face.

“Oh!” She gasped and then her shocked open features became immediately guarded again. “Forgive me. I was startled.”

“Have you been standing long?”

“All day.” The girl said, dully.

Artura did not offer any sympathy.

“Come over to the screen and help me with my armour. But be careful-“

Her warning came too late as the girl immediately obeyed; she attempted to walk on her long stiffened legs and promptly fell on her face. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.

“Give your legs a rub first.” She offered. “I don’t envy you the pins and needles.”

The look the girl gave her was one of comical incredulity and Artura felt herself biting back a grin as the girl swore under her breath more virtuosically than any of her knights.

“How old are you, girl?”

“Nineteen.”

“And you were attached to Gorlois’ forces in some way, a nurse perhaps?” Artura was the last person to doubt that women could fight, but this girl was no soldier.

“Something like that.”

“Merlin,” the girl looked her in the face when Artura used her name. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and large green eyes. Artura didn’t want to, but she felt it was somehow her responsibility to ask. “Cenred’s men. Did they...?”

“Did they what?” The girl’s expression darkened and Artura didn’t need any more confirmation.

She tried to swallow her anger but it threatened to burn right through her. It wasn’t just the girl, she told herself, it was also the principle. Cenred answered to her and this was a direct rejection of her wishes.

“Merlin...” She tried again, “If you have been hurt by them at all, then you must go and visit the surgeon, Gaius.”

Another blunder it seemed. The binding caused the girl to respond to this as an order and she jerked up to her feet.

“Not right away.” Artura added a little desperately. “When or if it suits you.”

Merlin’s body relaxed but her cheeks were flushed with shame and her expression reproachful. She had been forced to give away more either of them had wanted.

Artura was trying to think of what else to say, when the girl straightened herself up and began to undo her armour for her with surprising assurance.

“You have done this before?”

“Yes.”

“What other useful skills do you possess, Merlin?”

“Apart from involuntary obedience?”

The question was mildly phrased, but there was enough bitterness to make Artura wince.

“Apart from that.”

Merlin was silent for a moment.

“I have some knowledge of herbs and medecines. I may be of use to your surgeon.”

“Indeed,” said Arthur smiling at the girl’s presumption. “You should know that Gaius is one of the finest physicians in the land-I rather doubt that a country peasant can have much to offer him. Can you even read?”

“I’m lowborn, that doesn’t make me an idiot.”

Artura could not help snorting this time.

“We will see,” she said, wryly. “Anything else?”

“Well if you are only interested in activities which you see as befitting of my birth then I’m sorry to disappoint you but I can neither dance a country jig nor fart a love ballad for your entertainment.”

“I could make you.” Artura said lightly, caught between outrage and amusement. “It’s best you do not forget that at least.”

“I won’t.” The girl said softly, her tone measured and neutral once more.

There was a silence between them then. Artura had reminded her of her place. Under the circumstances it was incredible that it had even been necessary.

“I _can_ juggle though.”

Artura gave in and hooted with laughter.

“I may have need of those skills, Merlin.” She said in mock seriousness, when she had recovered herself.

“Anything to please the progeny of House Pendragon.”

Artura smiled ruefully. There was nothing openly defiant or malicious in her, but the girl was not making this easy all the same.

“I’m sure.” She replied in the same tone. “So tell me, _Mer_ lin, what exactly was it you did before you saw fit to rebel against House Pendragon and its progeny? Are you married?”

“I don’t believe I am the marrying sort.”

_Nor I..._

“Then who supported you?”

“I lived with my mother and...worked alongside my father at times.”

“And where are they now?”

“Dead,” said the girl, flatly. “My father I am sure of, my mother almost certainly.”

No need to ask how. This war had exacted its price of everyone.

Her armour was quickly removed and hung up and Artura sat down at her table.

“Wine.” She said absently, her head refilling with maps and charters and plans. The girl obeyed quietly and withdrew.

“Leave me for a while,” said Artura, “and _if_ you feel so inclined, perhaps you might go and visit Gaius.”

\-----------

Merlin tried to keep her eyes and ears open as she moved through the camp. She had only been a prisoner for five days, but she had already begun to know the meaning of that slow dread living in the pit of her stomach.

At first she had hoped that the princess’ vague command might allow her to slip out somehow, but her body ignored any attempts her mind made to veer her off course. It was a frightening, sickening feeling and she didn’t care to pursue it for long.

Instead, she decided to acquaint herself with the camp as best she could. In the dwindling summer evening, people were just beginning to light the fires. There was a laid back feeling and the smell of cooking food was in the air. It was almost as if the war was merely an amiable diversion to these people. It only made her angrier to think of how she and those she loved had suffered at their hands; those last few weeks in the woods after the sickness had taken hold, and then the days she had spent as a prisoner of Cenred’s men...

 _Enough_. She had promised herself she would not think of that unless she had to. And yet almost as soon as she had resolved to put it out of her mind, she found that she had somehow stumbled across the hospital tent. A young lad stood sentry at the entrance and looked her up and down suspiciously.

“What’s your business, girl?”

“I...my mistress told me I should visit. She said there was a physician...Gaius I think.”

The lad’s eyes took in the red chord around her wrist which marked her as bound, and nodded disinterestedly.

“He’s over there in his private quarters, making potions and such.”

Merlin thanked him and followed the boy’s gesture. There was nobody at the entrance and no answer when she tentatively tried to announce herself, so she entered quietly.

A figure stood precariously atop a pile of dubiously stacked furniture, reaching for something at the top of the tent.

Merlin cleared her throat.

“Gaius?”

The man swung round quickly. His eyes widened when they fell on her and then, to her horror, he began to fall backwards.

Merlin acted on instinct. There was a chest of straw and bandages at the far corner of the tent and she summoned all of her power to move it towards them, breaking his fall just in time.

She realised what she had done just as the white haired man’s head popped up from inside the chest.

“You there! Wait! Stop at once!”

Merlin turned to run, but she was powerless against his commands to stop.

He scrambled out of the chest with surprising agility for a man so advanced in years and caught up with her quickly. Merlin stood rooted to the spot, cursing her stubborn limbs.

“You have magic!”

“Please, I didn’t mean to...or at least I did but I hadn’t enough time to think it through...”

The old man raised an eyebrow.

“You must be Merlin,” he said, smiling at her ruefully, “You had better sit down.”

\----------

The physician did not behave as if Merlin were a prisoner at all. He poured her steaming hot tea into an old tin mug and served her milk as if they were two old friends.

“Merlin, from what I hear, you ought to be more than familiar with Camelot’s stance on magic. You are _aware_ that what you did just now is punishable by death, aren’t you?”

Merlin nodded, resignedly.

“Then I suppose I am even more indebted to you, my dear. You saved my life and risked your own in doing so. But I am afraid it puts me in rather a difficult position. Duty demands that I make the princess aware of your abilities, if she does not already know. Not doing so would be treason.”

Merlin felt herself begin to sweat.

“But...I am quite unable to use magic to cause any harm to the princess or her people. I have been... _bound_...as I think you call it here.”

She couldn’t quite keep the disgust out of her voice and Gaius returned her desperate plea with large sad eyes.

“I will think on it, Merlin. Rest assured that if I must share your secret with Princess Artura, she will also know the exact details of its discovery. That I promise you.”

It was scant comfort, but she felt the goodwill meant in it keenly and tried to smile.

“And now, is there a reason for your timely visit, my dear? Anything _I_ may do for _you_?”

Merlin took a breath. _This is the last time._

“I was held in Cenred’s camp for a few days before I was taken here,” she began, keeping her voice as emotionless as she could. “Some of the men there-“

The old man’s gaze hardened.

“I have heard more than I would ever care to about the way things are done in that camp,” he spat, setting his mug down with a clunk and spilling tea on to the table.

Relieved that she didn’t need to elaborate further, she blurted out what was on her mind.

“I need to know if they put a child in me.”

The old man nodded grimly.

“So this was more than a single encounter?”

Merlin nodded, feeling numb.

“Might I ask how many?”

“Twice,” she said, briskly. “It was the same man...but the second time there were two of them.”

Gaius’ eyebrows raised a little but he held her gaze.

“And did they do you any other injury?”

“A few bruises and cuts. One of them burned me with the roll he was smoking, but nothing serious.”

“Forgive me Merlin, were you a maid before this...these...incidents?”

For some reason it was this which finally made her blush.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And have you experienced any sickness or nausea since then?”

“Only...only immediately after the first time. I don’t think it was that though.”

She was grateful that the physician did not attempt to offer her any words of comfort; at that moment she could not have borne it.

“If you will permit me, Merlin, I will briefly inspect your abdomen. It won’t take long and you need only lift your shirt a little. If you require me to stop at any point, say so and I will desist immediately.”

Merlin nodded. She hated the way his touch made her flinch, but the physician was slow and steady, explaining to her each movement he made and in a few short moments she had more or less regained her composure.

“We cannot be sure until your next blood, but for now there are no signs whatsoever that you will have cause for concern.”

She felt immediately lighter at that, and managed a weak smile.

 “I also have a tonic for you. It will guard against any diseases that those scoundrels may have been carrying.”

The old man eased himself up and walked towards a chest filled with colourful bottles.

“I have several vials already prepared because, regrettably, it is rather a popular remedy amongst the mercenaries. Artura of course does not allow the abuse of prisoners, but she cannot keep soldiers from the brothels. More’s the pity...”

He unstopped the little brown bottle and handed it to her.

“I should warn you that it tastes foul, but if you don’t keep it down you’ll have to have another one.”

Merlin wrinkled her nose as the pungent odour met her nostrils, and then emptied the contents into her mouth before she could give it a second thought.

The old man did not lie. Merlin’s empty stomach lurched as the foul mixture ran down her throat and she clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes streaming. When it was done, Gaius smiled and patted her hand approvingly.

“Well done, child. You made rather less fuss than most of the soldiers who I have offered this to. Now wash it down with the last of the tea, that’s a good girl.”

Merlin obeyed him willingly, and then smiled.

“My father was a great healer, so I recognise a man who knows his craft. I am truly grateful to you.”

Gaius’ face became serious then, and Merlin wondered if she had somehow overstepped herself. Then he asked:

“Where is your father now?”

Merlin felt the answer, as she did every time, like a blade in her gut.

“He was killed in the spring, defending a druid settlement.”

 “A healer? Battling Uther’s army?”

Gaius’ expression was mild but there was something pressing in his question, an underlying urgency.

“He had other skills.”

“Magical ones? Like yours?”

Merlin shrugged. She did not understand what had provoked this sudden interrogation and it made her uneasy.

“Was he a _dragonlord,_ child?”

Merlin stiffened and said nothing. Perhaps she had been too quick to trust this man, but her silence appeared to be confirmation enough.

“You are Balinor’s daughter.”

Merlin stood up. The old man could stop her with a single word but she did it anyway. Her magic grew feverish within her, a scrambled expression of grief and fear and anger. Gaius remained calm.

“Wait, Merlin. Don’t misunderstand me. I mean no harm. Balinor is - was - a dear friend of mine. I know your mother Hunith too. She even talked of apprenticing you to me, in the days before we ended up on opposite sides of this wretched war.”

Merlin sat down again abruptly.

“You...you knew him?”

“Before sorcery was banned we worked together as healers for a time. And after Uther lured him to Camelot that last time, I helped him to escape.”

“You did _what?_ ”

The old man smiled grimly.

“I am loyal to the King, Merlin, on that I must be clear, but I try also to be true to my own convictions.”

Merlin couldn’t help it.

“I imagine that is challenging under a ruler like Uther.”

Gaius winced.

“Uther has brought stability and prosperity to Camelot. He has done so much for so many. But in the days of the purge there was something close to madness within him. They were dark times indeed.”

“ _These_ are dark times Gaius. There is no stability or prosperity for people like me or my father.”

“And you thought throwing in your lot with King Gorlois would improve things? The man’s a ruthless warlord who funds his wars with slaves and brothels while his people starve!”

Merlin felt her cheeks flush.

“Uther left us with no choice!”

“Indeed.” The old man’s eyes were tired and sad and she realised suddenly that she did not need to convince him of anything. He refilled her mug with tea and she watched the steam rise from it and wondered how the world could be so ugly and wrong and yet so still and beautiful at the same time.

“Does Hunith live?”

 “I don’t know. I saw her last in Ealdor, three weeks before it was sacked.”

She should have been there to protect her home, but they had made it back too late. The remains of her house had contained no trace of her mother.

Merlin swallowed.

Her father had not tolerated her tears then and neither would he have now. He always said that tears were only of use to maudlin troubadours and disingenuous dragons, but the old hypocrite always wept when they sang the songs of the hills where he spent his childhood.

If Gaius noticed the tears in Balinor’s daughter’s eyes, he did not say.

“It seems we have reached a stalemate Merlin: I know your secret, and you know mine. Shall we keep both to ourselves?”

Merlin raised and eyebrow. She didn’t need to remind the physician that he could enforce her silence with a simple command.

Sometimes there were no words. Merlin smiled instead, and poured him some tea.

 

\-----------

It was dark when she finally left the tent. There had been so much to talk about; each of them providing the other with a link to her parents. Merlin was fascinated to hear tales of her father and mother when they were no older than herself and it was a great comfort to feel how such encounters could glow all the more brightly for the darkness that surrounded them. 

 The princess would probably expect her back soon but there could still be time to try and find out what had become of Rainer’s boys and Toby.

She didn’t care much for the two younger sons. Their eldest brother was a strong leader and a good man, but the boys had always treated her as if she were more a weapon than a person. That was so often the way with nobility; they respected her powers without needing to respect her.

She was extremely fond of their squire though. Toby had taken the blow which had nearly broken his arm trying to stand against Cenred’s men that first night they came for her. And afterwards, as she’d sat there staring sightlessly into the darkness, unable to cry, he’d kept her company.

“You have more power than all of those bastards put together. You could have killed them all,” he had whispered.

“I might have managed that this time, but then they’d have known what I can do.  They’d be able to use me against all of you, against the people I love... “

“I know. That’s why I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

He had likely only been trying to comfort her, she thought, but she clung on to his words now. Seeking out Toby and the knights meant going back to Cenred’s camp and the mere thought of it made her legs feel weak.

 _If I allow myself to be afraid now,_ she thought, _I’ll be afraid forever._

The best way was to walk purposefully, as if her business there was unquestionable. She took a deep breath and lifted her head a little higher. She was not far now from the tent where they kept the highborn prisoners. Spontaneously she picked up a jug of ale and carried it towards the front of the tent. She was rehearsing in her head what to say to the guard on the door when somebody grabbed hold of her wrist.

“Where are you going with that, prisoner?”

She didn’t recognise the man but, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, she saw other figures approaching. Familiar ones.

“I was...just bringing this to the men...following orders...”

“Whose orders?”

“Don’t worry Len,” said one of the men. “We know this one. She’ll have been trying to pull a fast one but she’s been through the binding alright. We’ll see her back to her masters and be sure to let them know what she was up to.”

‘Len’ shrugged and took the jug from her trembling hands.

“If you like.”

There were three of them. Two she recognised and a third; a younger man with a gap between his two front teeth.

“I know my way back,” she ventured, failing to keep the tremor from her voice.

“Have you missed us, little girl? Come looking for us?”

Her magic was frantic within her, almost too wild to hold inside. But it could only make things worse.

She started to walk, quickly, but the younger man wouldn’t let go of her arm.

“I thought you said she was pretty!” He laughed as he rubbed his face against her ear. “I reckon some of the squires are more handsome than this mare.”

His two friends laughed.

“She’s got all the right parts though-unless that’s not to your taste, son!”

Merlin closed her eyes. She knew where they were leading her. How could she have been foolish enough to let this happen again?

“And you say the binding makes it so she does anything I tell her?”

“Anything. Dance, suck your cock, you name it.”

Merlin tried to pull away but the men just laughed.

“Maybe you should tell her to act as though she likes it, boy!”

“Oh she’ll like it alright.”

“I am under...Artura’s protection now!” Merlin gasped desperately as the man pushed her up against a pile of old crates. The noise from the cooking fires meant that nobody would hear her shout for help, even if there was somebody who might come.

“Cenred’s our king, lass. We don’t have to answer to that bitch.”

His mouth was on her face, his breath sour with wine and his hands were beneath her shirt, grabbing and twisting her breasts so that she cried out.

“Put your hand on my cock, gentle like,” he told her softly. With a now familiar horror she felt her body start to obey. She couldn’t do this again. She would have to force them to kill her. There wasn’t any other way.

She was desperately, almost instinctively reaching for her magic when the man was abruptly pulled away from her.

Sir Leon and another knight held the man firmly. From behind them, Princess Artura strode forward, her face flushed with anger.

The other two men were nowhere to be seen and so the full force of her rage was directed at Merlin’s assailant.

“What is the meaning of this?”

The man spluttered, taken utterly by surprise.

“I...Princess...I did not know...”

“You did not know what the penalty is for rape in my camp? I find that very hard to believe”

The man was afraid but defiant too. He was young enough to make that error.

“This is Cenred’s camp, my lady. That is where we found her.”

“This prisoner belongs to me. Do you think it acceptable that you use my property in this way? Do you think that your own master will look on this kindly?”

“No majesty, please...I did not know.”

Artura stepped forward and struck him hard on the face with her gauntleted hand. It left a glowing imprint on his cheek.

“Do not insult me,” she said softly. “Sir Gwaine, tie him up in the camp centre. Tomorrow he will receive ten lashes. Sir Leon, please inform Cenred of his man’s insubordination.”

Both men nodded and Gwaine dragged the man off, giving him a serious cuff behind the ear as they rounded the corner.

Merlin righted her shirt and swallowed, waiting for the princess to speak.

“Are you hurt?”

Merlin shook her head.

“Thankyou-“ she began shakily.

“Spare me your insincerity,” the princess interrupted her. “Tell me what you were doing in Cenred’s camp.”

There was no point in lying, even if she had the ability.

“I was trying to speak with the other prisoners,” she told her automatically. And then, just because she needed to know the sensation of asserting some control over what she said again, she added rather petulantly: “You would have done the same.”

“I can assure you that I would never have done something so idiotic. Now come.” She started to stride back to the camp, forcing Merlin to half run in order to keep up with her.

“I don’t care to use the binding,” she said as she walked, without looking at her, “but if you attempt to cross me again I will have to reconsider that.”

 _Good of you_ , Merlin thought and bit her tongue. Things could have been a lot worse.

When they arrived back at the Princess’ tent, Artura stopped and spoke to the two guards at the entrance.

“There will be a flogging tomorrow at dawn. When it is over, come and collect Merlin. She is also to receive five lashes for disobeying my orders.”

Merlin was careful not to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. She followed her wordlessly into the tent and began to help her undress.

She was tall; Merlin’s eyes barely reached her chin. It certainly didn’t help Merlin feel any more dignified when she had to stand on tiptoe to pull off her shirt. Not to mention the fact that her hands were still shaking.

The princess was obviously used to having servants undress her, and stood preoccupied and bare breasted as Merlin hunted for her night shirt, relieved that the candlelight hid her blush. There was little for the Princess to be ashamed of, she thought in grudging admiration. Even in the dim light Merlin could see that she was beautiful.

“You are to sleep there.” The princess said, pointing to a pile of rushes on the floor. “It’s a scandalous privilege for a prisoner but there is simply nowhere else for you to go. Do not get used to this treatment for you will not enjoy such favour after you are sold at market.”

Artura pulled a delicate curtain around her own pallet so that Merlin could only see her silhouette enhanced by the candlelight.

Merlin removed her boots and neckerchief, using the latter to cushion her head against the cold ground. She was shivering, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the shock.

“I will expect you to be ready for them to collect you in the morning.” Artura’s voice carried from behind the shimmering curtain.

From the safety of her dark corner, Merlin rolled her eyes.

“Wouldn’t miss it, my lady.” She evidently did not quite succeed in keeping the sarcasm from her voice, because she heard the princess sigh and roll over.

“I am a female soldier and as such I do not tolerate rape in my camp under any circumstances, but if you think that makes me soft or full of pity for you then you are wrong. I do not act on weak feminine impulse. I strive to do what is fair and what is right.”

Merlin felt a hysterical laugh rise in her throat and fought to stifle it. If the princess was so sure of her choices then why was she defending them? And since when did fair have to do with anything? As if everything that had happened to her and those she loved could be explained away by fair and not fair. She could not bring herself to answer and instead satisfied her anger by simply letting her words hang unacknowledged in the air as she rolled over and let sleep take her.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The girl had risen and attempted to begin her chores by the time she awoke.  Artura could not recall if she had ordered her to do so or if Merlin was simply trying to make a point.

Feeling already irritated simply by the girl’s sullen presence, Artura slipped into her robe and sat down at the table where a meagre breakfast had been laid out with little or no attention to detail.

“What is this?”

“It’s breakfast, your highness.”

“This is a piece of bread next to half a boiled egg, which is inexplicably placed in a cup.”

Incredibly, she seemed innocent of any deliberate sabotage; she actually had the gall to look a little crestfallen.

“The woman in the cook’s tent just showed me to an enormous tray of all different dishes. I wasn’t sure which to choose.”

Artura snorted incredulously.

“Merlin, _those dishes_ are my breakfast.”

“What - all of them?!” The girl looked her up and down with a disbelieving look. “Surely you can’t manage everything, even with all of the exercise you must get and-“

“Of course I don’t eat everything on the tray! I merely-“

 Artura suddenly remembered that she was not obliged to explain herself to prisoners and growled:

“Just go and get it.”

The girl took an interminable time about it, and when she returned Artura had to explain what each piece of crockery was for. But most infuriatingly, her face did not lose its sceptical look.

“What is it?” The prisoner seemed surprised, and Artura wondered how she could be so naively unguarded. She truly didn’t seem to know how open her face was to read.

“You clearly disapprove of something, so tell me what it is.”

The girl bit her lip.

“It just seems like a lot of fuss just for breakfast-and a bit of a waste.”

“And what do you deem an appropriate way for a princess to break her fast _Mer_ lin?”

It was absurd to get angry, she thought. The girl might have been compelled by the binding to answer truthfully. She would have to take better care over how she worded things.

 _Not for much longer_ , she told herself, _a span and a half at most._

Merlin only shrugged at her words.

“I do not mean to cause offence, your highness. I have witnessed a lot of hunger and suffering since the war began. That is all.”

Artura nodded, resigned.

“Did you eat in the servants’ tent this morning?”

“Was I meant to?”

Artura shrugged.

“Take meals with the other servants when you can. Otherwise, eat with me. Here.”

She pushed a plate of cold meat towards her, but the girl wrinkled her nose.

“I won’t, if it’s all the same to you. I prefer to take my floggings on an empty stomach.”

Merlin’s expression was arch but her face was pale. Artura could not let this lack of respect continue, but she didn’t have the heart to berate her. The girl had been through a tremendous amount over the past few days.

“Please yourself.”

Pouring herself a goblet of sweet watered wine, she opened up some of the correspondence with her father and tried to concentrate. The campaign was almost over on all fronts, and she was expecting to be summoned back to Camelot any day.

And Camelot meant court and banquets and living up to expectations.

Camelot needed and eligible heir, not an uncouth man-woman in riding boots and battle gear, this she accepted. It was part of her agreement with the King: he would bestow on her the education and responsibilities of a son if she showed the kingdom that she could also play the dutiful princess.

And then of course, there was her marriage...

“There are some knights heading this way, do you need to be put proper clothes on?”

Damn. She had clean forgotten about the imbecile from Cenred’s camp and his punishment.

“Who are the knights?”

“Sir Leon I think, and the taller one with the flicky hair from last night.”

Artura’s mouth quirked. Gwaine, then.

“Thank you Merlin. You can offer them some breakfast. Fortunately there happens to be some left over,” she added drily as she disappeared behind her screen.

The girl performed what was almost a passable job.

“The Princess will be with you shortly,” she heard her say as she wriggled hurriedly into her tunic. No excuses or apologies. It was far more dignified than the fawning verbosity of some of her heralds.

“I’m pleased to see you looking well, Merlin,” said Sir Leon.

“That swine’s getting what he deserves, lass, let me tell you-”

Artura chose that moment to step in, before Gwaine got carried away.

“Good morning.”

The men stood.

“A wretched way to begin the day, I know. You informed King Cenred of my decision?”

Leon’s mouth quirked.

“He accepted it with his usual ah...delicacy.”

“I say give the man twenty, my lady,” Gwaine piped up. “Provoke Cenred into losing his cool and give me the excuse to run him through.”

Artura smiled crookedly.

“Subtle and politic as always, Gwaine. I will not bother to remind you that King Cenred is our trusted and valued ally. Shall we away?”

“Will Merlin be joining us?” asked Leon, looking to the quiet figure in the corner.

Merlin’s eyes darted to hers and back to the older knight, obviously unsure of what to say.

“Merlin awaits her own punishment, Sir Leon. She is to receive five lashes. Gwaine, you will come and collect her when it is time.”

“ _Five?_ She’s but a girl!”

Artura felt a familiar stab of annoyance at this. The man who held her as a babe was the staunchest believer in her abilities on the field, but he could never quite let go of the notion that all other women were as fragile as glass trinkets.

“I knew what I risked.”

Artura nearly choked on her breakfast. _Merlin_ was the one defending her decision! She was standing there with her pale, unguarded face set determinedly, seemingly unaware of how absurd she looked in her overlarge men’s garb and her black hair sticking out everywhere. The girl was more unpredictable than-than-

Leon was looking at them both, a strange smile hovering on his lips.

“Forgive me, Princess,” he said at last, “I do not doubt your judgement. Shall we away?”

\-----------

“Alright lass, let’s get this over with.”

The young knight Gwaine’s face was grim when he arrived at the tent some time later.

“I’ll need to bind your hands.”

“Hardly necessary.”

Gwaine shrugged.

“Protocol.”

She offered her wrists before he could ask her for them, and allowed him to wrap a length of rope about them, knotting it deftly.

“Come on then.”

Merlin followed him wordlessly. She could see that he was troubled; sighing and running his hand through his hair. The situation clearly made him uncomfortable and Merlin decided, in spite of his allegiances, that Gwaine was a kind man. And because of this, she could not keep herself from asking:

“What are they going to do with me?”

Gwaine stopped abruptly and turned to face her, his expression puzzled.

“You’re to be flogged lass-did nobody-“

“I don’t mean now,” she interrupted impatiently, “I mean-am I to be sold then-as a slave?”

The young man’s face became even more troubled.

“Yes. Most likely you are, Merlin, though it’s not for me to say for sure.”

It was the answer she had been expecting and it had been weak and foolish of her even to ask, but she still absorbed his words like a physical blow.

She felt her magic simmer uselessly within her. There had been so little opportunity to use it that she had begun to wonder about her ability to control it. Right now it was impossible to tell whether it was her magic that was fuelling her increasingly frantic frame of mind, or if it were those feelings that were fuelling her magic.

“Then I wonder why your gracious princess went to the trouble of removing me from Cenred’s camp,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “For once I am sold I will be anyone’s to use as they please. Of course, I would expect no better from the daughter of Uther Pendragon.”

Her quarrel was not with the knight, who had shown her only kindness, but her words were her only channel for her fear and helplessness. They hit their target. It seemed Gwaine was rather too easy to provoke.

“That’s enough, girl! You chose to betray your own folk and throw your lot in with Gorlois. Do you think prisoners of a man like that can expect the mercy you have known? You’re lucky to be alive!”

Perhaps it was the mention of betrayal, but something snapped inside of her then, and she felt her magic break loose of her control. At the other side of the yard, an unnaturally forceful gust of wind whipped between the supply tents and knocked one of Cenred’s guards face first into a water trough.

Something inside of Merlin unknotted slightly and she bit the side of her lip to mask a grin. There were worse ways to vent.

Gwaine, mercifully heedless of it all, seemed to interpret her silence as regret and his anger dissolved as quickly as it had flared. He looked at her ruefully as he ran his hand again through his hair; a habit apparently.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing fighting for a man like Gorlois anyway? You know what sort of a king he is.”

Merlin pursed her lips.

“If I am forced to choose between tyrants, then I choose the king who doesn’t burn children.”

Gwaine didn’t flinch, and he held her eyes deliberately as he answered.

“Uther executed _sorcerers_ , lass, and that was twenty years ago or more. The thought gives me no comfort nonetheless. “

 He shook his head, as if to dispel the unpleasant subject from his mind before going on.

“But you needn’t have got yourself mixed up in this at all. I doubt even Gorlois would stoop to calling women to arms.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

“Your commander is Artura Pendragon and yet you wonder at my involvement because I am a maid?” It was safer, she decided, to lead the conversation elsewhere. Gwaine grinned at her.

“Princess Artura is an exceptional soldier by anyone’s standards. You on the other hand...well let’s just say your reputation as a swordswoman precedes you.”

Merlin felt her cheeks warm a little. Her magic spent, she had amused rather than threatened with her swordplay the soldiers who captured her. She had no doubt that her exhausted attempts to defend herself had made a hilarious fireside story.

“I have other qualities,” she huffed, hoping to cloak the truth with the truth. The knight laughed then and seemed about to reply when another figure approached them.

The man was cloaked simply in travelling garb, but he had the bearing of a knight.

“Lancelot!” Gwaine exclaimed, embracing him. “You bring good news?”

“Well met, Gwaine. I will tell you all of course, once I have spoken with the princess.”

Gwaine snorted.

“I should have known better than to try and get you to gossip. But the princess occupied at present. There’s a flogging going on and another about to begin.” He gestured pointedly at Merlin who, for the first time, raised her eyes to the stranger’s face.

She knew him.

Their eyes met and the man’s widened as he registered the same. Could really it have been only a matter of days? In her mind’s eye she saw again the forest where she had been captured.

_She had been certain that she would die. They had already begun to run but they were moving too slowly; so many of the children and elderly were exhausted or sick. Rosana had been with child since the winter but her step was strong and sure. Merlin sent a little prayer up to the gods that she would find her way home to Will and then let go of her arm. There didn’t seem to be any point in praying for herself._

_“I’m going to slow them down a bit.”_

_“Merlin, don’t be an idiot. I can see how little you have left.”_

_“It’s enough. They’ll be on us in moments if I don’t do something.” She didn’t bother to tell her any lies about catching them up. “When you see Will again, tell him from me that he’s a prat.”_

_She gave her friend’s shoulder a final squeeze and darted off, not daring to look her in the face._

_The enemy forces were closer than she had feared. Even without using her magic she could sense their approach. She was about to climb a tree to get a better idea of her options when the knight Lancelot had come up behind her._

_She felt his sword at her back before he spoke._

_“War’s over, boy.”_

_Merlin stiffened. She could have killed him there, but it would have left her with nothing at all to face the rest of them with. Besides, she was weary to her bones of fighting._

_“Put down your sword,” he said, “And I’ll spare your life.”_

_“I should warn you,” she replied, softly, “I am not what I seem. Leave me be and I will spare yours.”_

_He laughed._

_“Well you’re no boy, that I do see!”_

_There wasn’t any time to think. Drawing on the last of her strength, she summoned a burst of flame and shot it upwards between them. The force of it caused the man to fall backwards and she used the opportunity to flee deeper into the woods._

_The little landslide she had created afterwards to block the path of the soldiers had so decidedly eaten into her reserves that she had passed out for a while. When she awoke they were practically upon her and, with no strength left for sorcery, she had no choice but to draw her sword and face them alone._

Merlin had not expected to encounter the knight again. Her mouth went dry. She had already heard the name _Lancelot_ around the camp enough to know that this was the princess’ betrothed.

And he knew she had magic.

“I believe we’ve met,” said Lancelot, his mouth quirking. His eyebrows were singed, Merlin realised with a jolt.

“You know her?” Gwaine narrowed his eyes. ”I understood it was Cenred’s men who captured her.”

“I dare say it was,” he answered without moving his eyes from her. He had a steady, disarming stare. “I attempted to capture her myself but was unsuccessful. She might even have killed me if she had chosen to. They must have happened upon her at a later point.”

Gwaine choked. His face might almost have made her smile if the situation had not been so tantalisingly close to disaster.

 _“Merlin_ fended you off?”

The knight ignored him.

“So that is your name. Well, Merlin, I am Lancelot.” He offered her a brief bow and his eyes fell on the red chord at her wrist.

“You displayed honour and bravery on the field and it saddens me to see the manner in which you are being held. I will speak with the princess on this.”

Merlin felt the thud of her heart pumping in her ears as he turned to leave and Gwaine stared after him, slack jawed.

“ _You_ bested _Sir Lancelot_ in a fair fight?”

Merlin shrugged.

“They say there never has been nor ever will be a knight of his like," Gwaine persisted.

“He didn’t seem _that_ good,” she muttered, trying to divert any further questions.

“God’s bollocks, girl. You’re more unpredictable than Artura herself!”

Gwaine tugged on the rope which bound her and Merlin grimaced and followed him. She was so filled with dread that she couldn’t bring herself to reply again. Once Artura knew what she was, her power would be at the mercy of Uther. And once that happened, even slavery would seem like a blessing.

\-----------

They arrived in time to see the man being tied to the post. His face was defiant and there was something unfocused about his expression.

“Coward’s been in his cups.” Gwaine muttered.

Sir Leon, however, was looking at the soldier with the whip.

“That man isn’t one of ours.”

Artura grimaced.

“I had to allow one of Cenred’s to do it. The situation is delicate enough as it is.”

“He is to flog the girl as well, I take it.”

She could tell how hard the knight was trying to keep the disapproval from his voice, and she could not blame him.

“Cenred is our ally, Leon,” she murmured. “We have to at least _act_ as if we believe his men worthy and capable of acting with honour.

Rather unfortunately, the man in question chose that moment to look furiously into the crowd and spit on the ground.

“Well at least he’s making his feelings clear,” said Gwaine drily.

Knowing she had to try to take charge of the situation in some way, Artura stepped forward and, feeling a little foolish, addressed the near deserted yard.

“I have ordered that this man receive ten lashes for attempting to rape a prisoner belonging to me. Had the incident taken place in my camp, this man would have lost his head.”

She fixed the man with a cold stare until he lowered his eyes. Then she spoke again:

“Proceed.”

The yard was eerily silent as the three of them looked on. She could have ordered that her own men attend the punishment, but she could not do so with Cenred’s and be sure to be obeyed. Sometimes it was better not to test her authority. When it came to controlling men, sometimes the delicate illusion of control was all that stood between a functioning company and mutiny. And so here she was. The early light was dull and grey and Artura felt spots of rain against her cheeks.

_A perfect morning._

The soldier knew his business. He did not dare to openly go too lightly on his comrade but he spared him as much as he could get away with. His victim endured it with gritted teeth and a small grunt as the tenth stroke finally drew blood.

Leon raised an eyebrow as the man was untied and managed to walk away unaided with a final defiant look in their direction.

“He had better hope he doesn’t meet me any time soon,” muttered Gwaine, “because he won’t walk away from what _I’ll_ do to him quite so cocky.”

Artura put her hand to her mouth to hide her grin.

“You will not do anything of the sort, Gwaine. The last thing I need is a drunken brawl between our camps.”

She was about to say more when they brought Merlin out and on to the platform.

The girl looked small and frail beside the two soldiers who flanked her and her eyes were feverishly bright. Artura felt a pang of guilt at the sight of her, keenly aware of how much the girl had already suffered these few days past.

 _It’s only five._ Artura thought, a little desperately. _Being weak about it isn’t going to do anybody much good._

Cenred’s man appeared to say something to her as he fastened the ropes about her wrists and relished the chance to test the whip repeatedly against the platform with sharp, violent strokes. The girl’s face paled, though her expression was one of anger. Merlin could see, at least, that the man was trying to scare her.

Gwaine snarled and turned to Artura.

“Surely you won’t begrudge me that one, highness.”

“He’s yours,” she replied. “If you find him before I do.”

Even Sir Leon did not object.

The man drew blood with the first stroke. Merlin closed her eyes but she managed to keep herself from crying out until the third. She was obviously stronger than she looked, Artura noted with a grim satisfaction.

Artura and her knights stood tense and angry as they watched the man complete his work. After the fifth stroke he raised his arm again and all three of them moved at once. Artura took hold of herself first and put a steadying hand on Gwaine’s arm, allowing the more level headed of her knights step forward and address him.

“Enough, soldier. Five were all that was asked for,” said Leon, his voice dangerously controlled.

The man smirked insolently.

“My mistake, Sir Knight.”

“Nobody taught you to count in Cenred’s camp I see.” Gwaine was bristling with anger. He would need to be kept busy today or somebody was going to end up with a broken nose.

On the platform, Merlin’s head was drooping but she was still conscious.

“See that the prisoner is taken to see Gaius, Gwaine,” she said.

The man nodded curtly and moved to obey her.  Artura felt suddenly restless. She was just as bad as Gwaine in her own way. What she needed was a morning on the training field. Only hitting things really helped when she felt like this.

There was a boy running towards her, a squire to one of the lesser knights, she recalled, and tried to dredge up the lad’s name.

“Owen,” she gambled, and was rewarded with a flush of pleasure across the boy’s face, “do you bring news?”

“Riders from Camelot!” the boy gasped, “They ask to see you as soon as possible, your highness.”

The news brought a familiar sensation of relief and regret. It was almost certainly a summons from the King.

“Any you recognised?”

“Only Sir Lancelot, highness, by his colours.”

Artura gave the boy a genuine smile then. There was nobody she trusted better than Lance to give her an honest and shrewd summing up of events. And if the news was good, she realised with a flicker of excitement, he might even have brought Gwen along with him. It had been months since she had last seen her lady's maid.

Sir Leon also seemed to think it a good omen.

“It seems we are all the closer the end of this war! And the princess is once again reunited with her betrothed.”

The word _betrothed_ still made Artura uncomfortable when thinking about Lance, her friend, her sparring partner, her comrade in battle. Still, there was nobody better suited to be her consort when she became queen. His relatively low birth meant that he could never easily threaten her rule, and yet his reputation as the truest of knights made him more than worthy in the eyes of her people. And of course she loved him well. She was far luckier than many a king’s daughter, sent away as brides to the beds of men they had never met in order to secure some treaty or extend a kingdom’s influence. Artura and Lancelot had been firm friends since they were children and if she had to marry, she could think of nobody better.

Artura smiled at Leon.

“I will see him immediately.”

\-----------

Merlin awoke to the sound of voices. She could hear that they were near her, but they still seemed distant through the fog of sleep.

As a child, she had often drifted off on her mother’s lap to the chatter of her parents and their friends and it was not until she shifted slightly and felt the pain of her back awaken, that she fully understood that she wasn’t somehow back there. She kept her eyes closed anyway, reluctant to let go of the remnants of the illusion.

“Is she wakening?”

“I doubt it. Gaius gave her enough sleeping draught for my entire retinue.”

A pause then and a sigh, before the same voice continued.

“I’ve missed you and I’ve missed your counsel. I have no idea how to deal with her.”

“I need to speak with you, Artura. There are things I must -"

“Soon.”

Another silence.

“She looks badly hurt. I thought you said it was only five.”

“Cenred’s soldier had a point to prove. He made them count.”

He had, Merlin recalled. As he had bent to tie her to the post, he whispered into her ear that he would make her scream. She remembered trying to prove him wrong.

A disapproving grunt from the far corner informed her that Gaius was also present.

“Thank you Gaius,” Artura’s voice was acerbic, “but I think the revelation of your youthful fraternising with the prisoner’s traitorous parents gives me just as much right to hum and humph at _you_.”

Gaius’ response, it seemed, was to put down whatever he was carrying with a decisive clunk.

Artura sighed again.

“She’s stirring!” The owner of the other voice took hold of her hand and then gasped as her fingers wrapped around the binding.

“You said nothing about making her your _slave_ Artura Pendragon!”

“She’s not a slave,” Artura replied, irritably. “For want of a better idea, she’s acting as my servant until we return to Camelot.”

Merlin, lying flat on her front with the covers drawn away from her throbbing back, opened her eyes carefully and turned her head.

“It’s true,” she croaked, “I _am_ her servant. It’s just I don’t get paid and I’m not allowed to leave.”

She heard Gaius chuckle and there was relief in Artura’s voice.

“Merlin, you’ve already shown yourself to be the worst servant who ever lived. You really ought to be paying me.”

Merlin had never imagined she would find herself in conversation with the crown princess of Camelot, but if she had, it certainly would not have been like this. The others in the room did not seem to find the informality at all perturbing and Merlin found herself wondering what manner of ruler the princess Artura really was.

“How is the pain?”

The girl at her side still had hold of her hand and was looking into her face with such honest kindliness that Merlin was nonplussed.

She was pretty with strong open features and a shock of dark curly hair that fell in loose curls about her face.

“Fine-well bad actually-I mean a bit bad-“

Rather desperately, Merlin looked to Artura for direction, but the princess only looked amused.

“By the state of her back, I would imagine the pain is acute.” Gaius’ voice came exasperated from the back of the tent. His stooped figure came closer and he put a hand to her head as if to gauge her temperature.

“The child is exhausted, in shock and has now been beaten within an inch of her life-on your orders, my lady!”

Artura met his gaze coolly.

“And if she repeats the behaviour of yesterday I will have her whipped again, Gaius. I’m running a military campaign, not a home for the needy!”

The girl at her bedside smiled at her conspiratorially and rolled her eyes. It was more than likely that the princess saw her, but she did not let on.

“And now if Gaius would would set his simmering disapproval to one side for a moment, I would be grateful if he might come and run his eye over the travel plans. We must ready ourselves for the march home.” Gaius scowled and bowed and Artura turned back to the sleeping pallet.

“Merlin, I’m leaving Guinevere to look after you in Gaius’ absence. She has been my maid for twelve years and is the wisest and best person known to me.”

The girl’s cheeks flushed at that and Artura put a quick hand on her shoulder and then strode soldier-like towards the entrance of the tent.

“Who knows,” she added, pausing at the doorway, “Gwen might even be able to teach you how to be a less terrible servant.”


	3. Chapter 3

In the deepest part of her sleeping mind, the dragon was speaking to her again.

_Merlin...destiny draws you close..._

She couldn’t remember when the voice had first become part of her dreams. She recognised now that it had been there, a gentle murmur, since she had been captured but tonight it pushed itself to the front of her thoughts, bold and vital.

_I wait for you...how long I have waited..._

The worst part was that, even as she lay in the emptiness between sleep and waking, she knew her mind deceived her. She had never been one whose dreams revealed truths with any sort of coherence, and besides, the dragons were gone.

Two winters ago she had stood by uselessly in the snow as her father wept over the body of the last dragon.  Serafina had seen over a thousand such winters and had lain down to die as nobly as she had lived.

Perhaps it had been fate, set in motion even before Merlin’s birth. The firstborns of dragonlords were always male, and the skill had been passed from father to son since humans had invented remembering. Yet Balinor had never seemed overly concerned by the decision of the gods to give him a daughter.

“The turning of the world is a far bigger tangle of meanings than we can ever hope to understand on our own, lass,” he’d said once. “We are all meant for something and when I die, you will either inherit my skills or you won’t. Either way, you’re unlikely to ever learn the reason why.”

But even Balinor could not have predicted what would follow; the systematic hunting and killing of the dragons he was bound to guide and serve. He outlived the last dragon which meant that Merlin would never learn if she could have followed the path of a dragonlord.  In her heart, though, she knew it would not have been possible. She never spoke of it to her father, but she could not help feeling in some way responsible for the dragons; as if their fall was inextricably linked to her inability to inherit his gifts.

Still, the imaginary dragon in her dream was doing a fairly convincing turn all the same. She felt herself reach towards waking, but the voice became more insistent.

_“Hear me, little one. Your destiny looms near, but even destinies can be overturned. You must use your wits if you hope to survive. The knight Lancelot knows what you are. His heart is just, but he cannot comprehend the forces at work here. Once he discovers that Artura is ignorant of your powers, he will not keep your secret long.”_

“But how can I stop him? My magic is useless, I am helpless here...bound...”

_“Seek him out Merlin. You must! The old man has given you herbs to sleep but you must act now-hurry!”_

“But...what can I possibly-?”

_“Wake up girl! Wake up now!”_

\-------------

 

“You have to order me to go to Lancelot.”

Gaius, sorting scrolls at the far side of the tent, started, his arms flailing comically as his sleeping patient sat up. There was no sign of the girl, Gwen who had held her hand and spoken kindly nonsense to her as the physician’s concoction had done its work.

“What the-how on earth are you awake, child? I gave you enough sleeping draught to subdue a dragon!”

“Dragon...the dragon warned me. I have to go _now,_ Gaius.”

The physician crossed the tent and put a hand gently on her forehead, easing her back on to the pallet.

“My dear, you’re all a muddle. You need to rest now.”

His words had a soothing softness to them and her foggy head yearned to obey, but the dream was stronger still. She knew enough about those whose visions held meanings to understand that such a dream was not to be overlooked, dragon or no dragon.

Summoning all of her concentration, she willed herself to focus on the old man’s face.

“Lancelot knows I have magic. I need to stop him from telling the princess or-”

“You betrayed your magic to him?! Have I not impressed upon you the very _real_ danger that you are in? This is not a game, you idiot girl!”

Oddly warmed by the strength of his anger, she explained as briefly as she could her meeting with Lancelot and all that had happened since. Gaius’ expression softened and then became sorrowful.

“I see,” he said when she was finished. “In that case once he realises your powers are not common knowledge, I doubt that there is anything you can do or say to stop him . He is Artura’s betrothed after all.”

Merlin swallowed.

“I need to speak with him at least. It’s just...it’s just a feeling I have. I can’t go looking for him unless you tell me to though.”

“Very well, my dear,” said the old man, resignedly, “but I fear it is a lost cause.”

\-----------

As her magic had touched the knight so recently, it was simple to use it to seek him out and her power flowed from her strongly, welcoming the release.

It was slow going. Gaius had been certain she would not have the strength to walk at all, but she found being on her feet oddly revitalising, in spite of the pain of her back. It was only as her feet compelled her out of the camp and into the forest beyond that she began to regret the fact that, under Gaius’ binding orders, she did not have the option to turn back.

 She soon realised that she had not even made sure the Princess herself was not with him and her stomach dropped as it occurred to her what a woman and her betrothed could be doing together in the woods after a long separation...As if in answer to her thoughts, she suddenly caught a glimpse of the knight through the trees, down by the river. His back was turned to her, and there was unmistakably a figure in his arms.

She tried then to resist the binding and turn around, but only succeeded in summoning a hot white pain in her belly that caused her to stumble down the slope and land on her hands and knees next to the river.

The woman in Lancelot’s arms cried out in surprise. It was not Artura.

As she scrambled back to her feet, Merlin felt the knight’s blade at her back for the second time. She raised her arms and turned gingerly, hope dwindling.

Lancelot’s face was unreadable, but Gwen’s eyes were brimming with fear and horror. There was no mistaking what Merlin had stumbled into: the Princess’ betrothed and her maidservant.

“I did not take you for a spy, Merlin. I suppose you used your magic to lead you here?”

“I’m sorry...I didn’t...I wasn’t able to...”

Gwen put a hand on his shoulder.

“What do you mean? How could she use magic, Lance?”

The knight’s eyes widened but did not move from Merlin’s face.

“They don’t know what you are?”

Gwen put a hand to her mouth as Merlin shook her head.

 “Every prisoner is checked for magic,” said Lancelot in disbelief. “It is inconceivable that that even _Cenred’s_ soldiers could fail to...”

There was no point in lying to them.

“I used everything I had before I was taken. I couldn’t feel my magic for nearly two days afterwards...I suppose it meant there was nothing to detect when they looked for it...”

“Why have you come here?”

It seemed so ridiculous now.

“Only to ask you...to beg you not to tell the princess.”

Lancelot’s eyes hardened.

“You hoped to use this, I suppose, to bargain one secret for another. I should have known to expect nothing better from one tainted by magic.”

“No! I wasn’t-“

“If you think either of us would put ourselves above Artura’s safety then-“

“Please-I cannot use my powers like that when I am bound, yet if the Princess finds out she will give me to Uther. I have seen those with magic used by the King as weapons against their own villages, even their friends and families... I came to find you only because I believed you to be a good man-“

“And instead you find out that I am not.”

“Lance-“

The knight turned angrily and brushed away Gwen’s hand.

“You tell us your magic is completely suppressed by the binding. If this is true, then can you explain to us how you managed to find us here, so far from camp?”

Merlin thought of Gaius and swallowed.

“No,” she whispered, “I can’t.”

Lancelot gave a disgusted laugh at that, but it was the expression on Gwen’s face that made Merlin’s cheeks grow hot.

“We will escort you back to the camp now.”

Merlin looked at him numbly and he returned her gaze with a strong, cold one of his own before leading them up the bank without a word.

Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears that she almost failed to notice Gwen fall into step beside her until the girl spoke.

“Lance and I were going to tell Artura just as soon as the campaign was over.”

Merlin shrugged and turned her face away so the girl would not see the tears in her eyes. How could she think that Merlin would care in what manner her enemy was cuckolded?

“Are you going to tell her what you know?”

 “You are going to tell her what _you_ know.”

“It’s our duty.”

Merlin could only nod and turn her face away, for fear of disgracing herself.

She though the girl would leave her, but to her surprise, Gwen came closer and put an arm around her shoulders. Merlin’s first instinct was to shrug her off, but there was something so honestly sympathetic in the girl’s gesture that she was almost overwhelmed. Lancelot looked neither surprised nor disapproving of his lover’s behaviour. The girl smelled of fresh herbs and flowers and it was all she could do not to bury her head in her shoulder and weep like a child. Had it only been a week since she had known the comfort of her friends? Her hunger for it was so keen that it might have been a decade.

They were nearly at the camp when Gwaine approached them on horseback.

“Lancelot! The very man I need!”

“Whatever it is, it must wait,” interrupted the knight. “I have to speak with Artura on a matter of the gravest urgency.”

Gwaine removed his helmet and looked at his friend.

“Well that’s just it. The princess has disappeared off somewhere with Leon and his milksop noble lads and our friend _Cenred_ has got it into his head that he wants to deliver some blasted gift or another to her before he marches for home, but there isn’t a damned man in this camp well born enough to accept it on her behalf without causing insult-except you!”

Lancelot looked to Merlin and Gwen and back towards Gwaine with a look of almost comical exasperation.

“Alright, take me to him. Lady Guinevere, would you be kind enough to escort Merlin back to her quarters?”

Looking flustered, Gwen curtsied, which even Merlin registered as a little much, and led her away gently by the arm.

The young maidservant did not speak to her again. Merlin managed to more or less keep a hold of herself until she was alone in the tent, but her heart was beating faster and her breath came shallow and panicked. She had averted discovery for the moment, but it was only a matter of time. As the tent door flapped closed, she put her hands around her knees and felt the walls around her begin to contract.

\-----------

Artura arrived back feeling refreshed. The slow heat and close quarters of a summer campaign could be stifling and she liked to take the opportunity to disappear into the forest from time to time and bathe in the stream.

This war had been far from straight forward, and Artura was almost as uncertain in her animosity towards those they fought as she was in her belief their alliance with Cenred. The presence of the mooncalf prisoner Merlin had only emphasised this, and of course she could not pretend that the arrival of Gwen had not had some effect on her equilibrium.

It was so difficult to feel the distance between them and know that it was she who had put it there.

Of course Artura was not alone as she bathed. Leon stood purposefully facing the other direction with a half dozen of his most prudish young knights a dignified ten paces or so away, but the cool water and the expectant hush under the trees allowed her to breathe easier all the same.

She entered her tent with a step that was almost light, but the sight of Merlin sitting on her pallet in the shadowy half light, shoulders hunched put something of a damper on things.

“What on earth are you doing up? Did Gaius give you leave?” The girl shrugged and nodded. It was plain she had been crying-and small wonder. Was there any indignity the girl had not suffered these past few days?

Artura felt a rush of frustration. Men experienced all manner of troubles at war and she knew how to deal with all of them, but this...this was what Gwen was for!

Feeling decidedly out of her depth, Artura put her hands behind her back and stood self consciously in front of her.

“If there is anything I – we can do...”

The girl gave her a blank, distracted look, as if awaking from a dream.

“Your punishment was not carried out with honour,” Artura persevered, “and for that I must take full responsibility.”

She had not known how the girl would react, but she did not expect Merlin to smirk.

“Well it wasn’t the _most_ honourable public flogging I’ve experienced...”

Artura snorted.

“Merlin, if you were not so obviously a ludicrous halfwit I would put you in the stocks for speaking this way.”

“Good thing I’m such an idiot then, because I’m not sure how _honourable_ the stocks are in these parts, let alone the quality of rotten-“

To her utter relief, Gwaine appeared at the entrance before she was forced to be as good as her word.

“Princess! I’m sorry to disturb but we’ve been searching for you all afternoon.”

“What is it Gwaine?” asked Artura, pleased to be back in a role she was comfortable with.

“It seems King Cenred has seen fit to bestow on your highness a gift before he takes his leave. He has let most of his retinue go on without him while he awaits your pleasure.”

The tall man grinned at her confusion and went on in a lower voice.

“And before you say what we are all thinking, I should warn you that he’s waiting for you himself outside.”

Artura cursed under her breath and looked to the now silent girl, who seemed to have closed in on herself again.

“Well come on, _Mer_ lin. If Gaius deems you fit enough to be moping around my chambers, then you are surely fit enough to help Gwaine unpack this _gift._ ”

The girl’s expression was surly enough to convince Artura it was the right decision. Gwaine, who in his infuriatingly easy way had appeared to have transformed from Merlin’s gaoler to her elder brother without even having to think about it, mussed the girl’s hair and led her out of the tent with an arm at her elbow.

\-----------

“This is an unexpected honour, Cenred.”

Artura tried to smile as she stepped out of the tent into the remainder of the evening sunlight.

Cenred, though surely not out of his forties, seemed permanently cursed with the glistening, feverish features of a man just roused from a night in his cups-and Artura had enough cause to suspect that this might not be down to simple coincidence alone. In the long shadows, the effect was exaggerated and Artura felt a twinge of disgust as the man advanced towards her.

“My Lady,” he said as he bent to kiss her hand, “I trust I find you...unharmed?”

Artura frowned.

“Of course. Had you cause to fear otherwise?”

Leon and his men stood a few paces behind her. It was subtle, but she felt each one of them tense and move their hands quietly to their swords.

 _Good soldiers to a man,_ she thought proudly, even as she scanned the area for the most advantageous place to draw her own sword, should the necessity arise.

“I do not wish to alarm you, Princess, but I bring you the grave tidings that your life was threatened today,” he paused and raised his voice unnaturally, “by sorcery.”

The idiot Merlin, who had been given a box to hold, chose that moment to drop it to the ground with an awkward clunk. Artura ignored the girl’s ridiculous fumbling as she scrabbled to retrieve its contents and made sure her reply carried steadily to all of her men.

“Please continue.”

“My scouts found a pair of sorcerers concealed next to your camp this morning, a wild red haired witch and her deformed lover. The woman even carried marks of the old religion, but they both talked quickly and we had them executed as swiftly as possible.

Artura felt sick. _No trial, no proof. This was not Camelot’s way._

“I see. Though I thank you, King Cenred, I must say that-“

“Princess Artura, as a result of this renewed threat to your person I must beg you to accept my protection on your journey back to Camelot.”

A hot rage was beginning to fill her belly. Whatever mischief he was planning, she had not the patience for it.

“King Cenred, I cannot accept such an offer.”

The man gave her a smile that made her long for his usual scowl and took her hand in his cold sweating ones.

“I’m afraid I must insist. I have already written to your father with these tidings and he will expect me in Camelot. I also ask that you accept this small gift as an emblem of my devotion to your safety.”

Artura swallowed the temptation to punch the man in his greasy face and nodded to Gwaine and Merlin, who stepped forward to take the box from Cenred’s men. One of them appeared to recognise Merlin and acknowledged her with a sneering grin. The girl flushed and took her side of the box from him with and expression of disgust and shame and Artura made a mental note to remember the man’s face for as long as it took for their paths to cross again.

It seemed Cenred was still talking, but all Artura could do was marvel that she seemed to be being outmaneuvered by a drunken oaf in a game she had only just discovered she was playing. She needed to deduce the reasons behind this sudden change of tack, and quickly!

“...and I hope we might dine together on the morrow.”

“Certainly,” she agreed absently, with every intention of being indisposed. “And now I think we must all rest. There is much to think about.”

Artura watched Cenred and his men leave and did not turn until they were out of view. She felt Gwaine’s eyes on her, bursting to make a comment, but it was Sir Leon she needed now.

“That sot dares to suggest that _I_ might need his protection!” she hissed. “The man knows I am the better soldier. Does he seek to undermine my authority by _courting me_ instead?! Surely he knows I am already betrothed.”

“Your intended is his superior in all things but his birth, my lady. I fear Cenred may mean to make you what he considers to be a better offer.”

Gwaine snorted at that.

“He thinks because he’s shown up by our Princess on the field that _marrying her_ will redress the balance?!”

“I rather fear it would,” replied Leon, “in the eyes of the law at least.”

Artura grimaced.

“Well thankfully it is not going to happen. It’s simply a matter of making that clear as swiftly and with as little fuss as possible. I will need Lancelot by my side as much as he can be-in fact- where the devil is he now?”

The older man looked rueful.

“It seems he thought of that too, and sent Sir Lancelot on some fool’s errand before seeking you out. We must tread with caution, my lady.  Cenred may not be _as_ much the blundering buffoon as he appears.”

Artura swallowed a grin at the older man’s rare lack of delicacy and turned her attention to the others.

“Merlin, help Gwaine open the box.”

The girl obliged, but as she lifted the lid on the little chest, she drew back hurriedly, coughing and spluttering.

Her first thought was poison, but Sir Gwaine stood with the box still in his hands and a look of bemusement on his handsome face.

“What is it now, Merlin?”

“Nothing...just some dust...sorry.”

Artura rolled her eyes.

“I did not take you for such a delicate flower, Merlin,” she said, and moved towards Gwaine to look inside the chest. It was, predictably, jewellery; a gaudy necklace composed of bright coloured gemstones.

Artura grimaced and closed the lid.

“Put it with my things.”

At her nod, the rest of her men drifted off until only Merlin remained. She needed to think, but the girl was staring at her with an expression she couldn’t quite interpret.

“What now?” She asked, suddenly weary.

The girl bit her lip.

“Those people weren’t trying to kill you,” she said quietly.

“What people?” snapped Artura.  Surely even _Merlin_ could see she that she was in no mood for nonsense.

“Those people Cenred _murdered.”_

Artura sighed. She doubted there was a person in the camp to whom that was not obvious, but there was infuriatingly little she could do or say about it at this point, particularly to Merlin.

“And how exactly would _you_ know this, Merlin?” She asked waspishly. “Does your King Gorlois allow simple minded village girls to be privy to his war councils? Perhaps I should have my men question you further.”

The girl’s face twisted in anger.

“I knew them. The way Cenred described them... Marta was a redhead and her husband’s face was burned years ago in an accident at his father’s forge. She would have borne druid marks because she was a healer but he didn’t have any magic about him at all. They nursed half of my village when the sweating sickness came three summers past.”

Artura felt something twist in her gut.

“You heard Cenred say they confessed to their crimes.”

 “Under what form of torture do you suppose? In all likelihood they were just trying to make their way home.”

“It is never so simple when sorcery is involved.”

“Is that truly what you think?”

Artura grit her teeth in frustration. The fact that she was now defending the botched, dishonourable actions of a man she loathed to this irrational peasant prisoner was almost the final straw.

“My father has spent twenty-one years battling the horrors that those with magic have wreaked. There are no _innocent_ sorcerers, Merlin.”

The girl looked at her directly in the face then, and for the first time Artura saw something in her expression that was darker and more knowing than she had thought her capable of.

“In my experience there are no innocent kings either my lady, least of all your father.”

Artura’s reflexes nearly got the better of her. She raised her hand to hit the girl, who did not quite have the control not to flinch. It was only this that allowed her to take hold of herself at the final moment and lower her arm. She would not strike anyone for saying what was true, however galling, however unworthy.

She took a deep breath, but her voice was still trembling with anger

“Do not ever presume to speak that way in my hearing again.”

Merlin gave a strange little laugh and looked back at her with such bright, feverish eyes that Artura feared for a moment that she had lost her head, but when she spoke, her voice was calm and lucid.

“Would you like me to prepare your quarters now, my lady?”

Artura blinked. The girl was impossible.

“Have Owen bring some wine there first,” she managed, before turning dismissively and leaving the girl to her duties. She wasn’t quite sure where she was walking, but she needed a few moments to clear her head. Perhaps the fresh air would help her shed some light on how an incompetent drunk and a foolhardy peasant could give her such a headache!

\-----------

Merlin lit the candles in the tent with her thoughts spinning. She had come so close to betraying herself, to risking everything for a group of people she barely knew. Her mother had called it kindness, but Will had always warned her that her soft heart would get her killed.

He was right. The thought of what she had nearly done made her feel sick.

The stench of crude blood magic had caused her to reel as she opened King Cenred’s ‘gift’. Gorlois had the support of the finest sorcerers in the land, but even the lowest in his service would not stoop to using magic such as this. The curse was dark, but it was also very poorly worked and Merlin could not immediately discern its purpose-or even be sure if it was cast coherently enough to achieve its intended end. What she could tell was that its purpose was malign and that it could only have been put there by somebody in the service of Cenred.

Perhaps it was the offensively crude nature of the magic, or perhaps it was simply because it came from Cenred, but it was only the ugly ignorant way the princess had spoken of sorcerors that had ultimately stopped Merlin from warning her.

Camelot’s people were not like Cenred’s, this much was clear, but they were not her friends. The notion that they had their own lives and problems, were capable of kindness and sorrow-and the fact that their princess was in her own way just and merciful...and bold and funny and beautiful...Merlin shook her head in disgust. She had lived long enough with herself to know the worth of such thoughts. She was the dragonlord’s awkward daughter who should have been his son, and if she had learned anything in her life it was that things went much more smoothly when she kept such thoughts to herself.

At the sound of the princess entering, Merlin turned. She had been gone for quite some time and the candles were now the only source of light in the tent.

“Shall I help you to undress?”

The princess gave a disgusted grunt in response, clearly still angry.

“Just pour me some wine.”

Merlin shrugged and did as she was told, watching with some chagrin as Artura carelessly dropped her tunic and belt in the floor. She hesitated for a moment and then picked up the items and folded them into the princess’ chest, noticing with a start that Cenred’s box had been stored next to it. She could barely feel its power at all with the lid on, but she stuffed it under as many items as she could anyway, disgusted at the notion of having to sleep with it so nearby.

Artura had already drawn the curtain around her bed, but she had taken the wine with her and Merlin could see the warm glow of a candle through the drapes.

Merlin blew out the rest of the candles and settled down into her own corner. She had thought herself exhausted enough to pass out immediately, but her mind was still full of the day’s events. Whatever Cenred was planning might cause enough chaos for her to make her escape but if not, would she find herself back in the hands of her initial captors?

The shock of seeing that first soldier again had been almost physical. There had been so little opportunity to absorb what had happened to her, and what else might become of her in the hands of Uther that the darkness and silence in the tent suddenly seemed like _too much_ space to think. Her heart had begun to pound so loudly in her chest that she felt sure it must be audible to Artura. She tried to keep her breath steady, but it was becoming harder and harder to take in any air at all and she choked back a sob as the world started to close in on her and then, unexpectedly, there were hands around hers, drawing her upwards.

“Come on Merlin, up with me.”

Artura was drawing her to her feet and towards the bed. Merlin tried to move her feet but the ground kept spinning out of reach and the princess had to half drag her the few steps it took.

“Sit there and breathe with me, alright?”

Artura swept her hair out of her eyes and looked intently into her face.

“ _Alright?”_

Only just realising that she was expecting an answer, Merlin gave a brief nod.

“We’ll do it together now, a big one in....and out...”

It took a few moments, but eventually the world stopped spinning and Merlin felt the world move back into focus.

“Better?”

Merlin nodded again.

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be. It happens to my lads from time to time, usually a little after a particularly difficult mission or something similarly...upsetting. It’s an entirely appropriate response to your situation.”

Merlin’s mouth quirked.

“Thankyou...?”

Suddenly aware that her face was still held in Artura’s hands, she blushed and pulled away.

“I'll go back now-“

“Absolutely not. You’ll sleep here tonight.”

“But-“

“Just do as you’re told, Merlin. I won’t sleep up here alone while somebody in my care has some kind of nervous attack on the floor.”

The princess didn’t even notice that she had invoked the binding with her words, but for once Merlin was too tired to care. She wriggled so that she was partly under the blanket and then stretched out on her stomach. It was absurdly comfortable, but it seemed the princess was not quite finished.

“Lift your shirt. Your wounds won’t be dry yet and the last thing we need is for it to stick.”

Merlin gave her a reproachful look as she struggled to pull it up with one clumsy hand, and Artura give a low chuckle.

“Are you always so intent on making life difficult for yourself, Merlin?” she asked as she helped her. She gave a low hiss when she saw the wounds again and Merlin, oddly embarrassed, was relieved that the candlelight hid her face as the princess surveyed her.

Artura showed no sign of intending to sleep herself and insetad sat upright next to her, sipping occasionally from her wine. Merlin might have been self conscious but there was something wonderful smelling in the pillow and she was very nearly on the brink of sleep when Artura spoke to her once more.

“By the way Merlin, if you ever speak of this honour to anyone, I _will_ kill you.”

Merlin snorted at that, and buried her head further into the bed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it...”

\----------

She was surprised when she awoke in the cold emptiness, somewhere in the darkest part of the night, to find that it had not been her own dreams that disturbed her but Artura’s.

She could tell it was dream that had been dreamed many times, strong enough that Merlin caught glimpses of it in her own mind: a battle, a young man weeping beside a lake, and a yellow haired boy child whose face made Merlin’s heart go still, though she knew she had never seen him before.  

Artura cried softly in her sleep and reached out into the darkness and Merlin stroked her hair from her face and whispered gentle things until the dream receded and the girl’s face became calm.

She decided she probably wouldn't mention  _that_ to anyone either.


	4. Chapter 4

Somebody was holding her hand.

For the briefest moment before she opened her eyes she thought that it might be Gwen, but her waking mind caught up with her too quickly for it to last.  
The girl prisoner was still fast asleep and so Artura sat up gently leaving her hand in hers for a moment, unwilling to disturb her.

Merlin had none of Gwen's beauty that was plain, but there was a sweet delicacy to the curve of her pale features that seemed all the more pronounced against her shock of black hair. Now that she wasn't spouting nonsense or crashing about like a buffoon there seemed to be something almost otherworldly about her. _Fae-like_ , she thought to herself and smiled. Not a comparison her father would approve of.

The girl's back was still exposed and Artura took another look at her injuries, vividly contrasted against the pallor of her skin. She had taken in the rounded curve of the girl's hip before she knew herself and jerked her hand from the prisoner's with a jolt. Was she really so base that she would lust after a vulnerable girl in her care? A prisoner who would likely see her dead given half a chance.

It had long been clear to Artura that she could not rid herself of her peculiarity but it was one's choices and actions that mattered. She had told that to Gwen who had wept but had not tried to contradict her.

Merlin stirred and raised herself up painfully, evidently unsure of her surroundings.

"I was beginning to think I was going to have to get my own breakfast," said Artura. The girl's shirt had come unlaced and she could see the small swell of her breasts as she settled into a sitting position, her knees bent.

"How's your back?" she ventured, looking away awkwardly. Pathetic.

Merlin did not immediately answer. She looked thoughtful for a moment, troubled perhaps. Under the circumstances though, that was hardly surprising.

"I need to ask you something I think."

Artura forced herself to hold her gaze. If this was about the prisoners from last night she would have to answer her question fairly, no matter how unpleasant it was. But if the prisoner dared mention her father again...

Merlin widened her eyes and then spoke in a hushed voice.

"What in the world is inside of these pillows?!"

Artura blinked and then barked a short unladylike laugh.

"It's lavender. Gwen makes them for me. I thought your knowledge of herbs was meant to rival Gaius', Merlin."

"It's not just lavender," said the girl unperturbed. "There's essence of geranium in there too...and very possibly camomile and -"

"Are you saying my maidservant is spiking my lavender pillows?"

Merlin shrugged, the suggestion of a grin lending her a momentary dimple.

"I'm saying your maidservant clearly thinks you need to relax."

Artura moved to swat her playfully but there was a rustle at the front of the tent and nobody entered unannounced apart from -

"Gwen!"

The girl entered self consciously, nearly tripping over a tent peg in the doorway, yet still there was a music to her movements that made her ache. Artura had endured years of lessons that just about kept her from swaggering like a stable hand, but Gwen's gracefulness had never been learned. She stood wide eyed and uncertain at the entrance and Artura felt her cheeks turn pink, forced herself to tilt her chin and look her in the face. She knew what this looked like and appearing embarrassed would only strengthen that.

"My lady..." Gwen had never learned to hide her emotions but right now there was something unreadable in her face, an expression Artura couldn't quite understand. She stood, relieved she had at least gone to sleep suitably dressed and poured wine into a goblet.

"Thirsty?"

Gwen frowned. "You never take strong wine in the morning."

Artura shrugged. "Neither of us slept well last night. Merlin was...taken ill."

Gwen looked at her sceptically but did not dispute her explanation.

"Merlin's just been telling me your secret," Artura continued.

Gwen flinched. She actually _flinched_ at that and Artura couldn't help reaching out and taking her arm with genuine concern.

"She says you put geranium in the pillows,” Artura explained, tilting her head to try and look her in the eye but Gwen turned her face away.

"I need to speak to you," said Gwen quietly. "Alone - if you have a moment."

Artura looked at the girl in her bed, suddenly irritated by her presence.

"Merlin, get out."

She didn't need telling twice. Merlin jumped to her feet, too fast it seemed because she flinched as she stretched the wounds on her back and nearly fell, had to steady herself with a hand on the bed before she made it to the door.

Gwen looked at her with her large eyes full of pity but Artura felt only impatience. The girl had done nothing but plague her since she arrived here and now Gwen had something of import to tell her and Merlin was in the way.

"Tell Gaius you're to help him...clean out chamber pots or something."

She expected a surly retort of some kind but the girl only looked frightened, giving Gwen a brief uneasy look before she hurried out.

She could feel Gwen's disapproval without needing to look up and it rankled.

"Merlin became unwell in the night."

"And you were far too good hearted to allow her to languish on the floor while you slept in luxury." She smiled then. "Don't worry Art I never thought..."

"Let's talk outside. I need some air."

Gwen followed meekly and Artura gave a sign to the lad on the door not to follow. The camp was quiet with only a few men going about their business but she still had to suppress the urge to reach out and take her hand. Even if they had been alone, she had forfeited that right several months ago.

"I have missed you Gwen," she said, stopping at a tree on the edge of the camp, which was the furthest they could go without Leon sending a knight to follow after them.

Her maidservant couldn't meet her eyes.

"And I you." Gwen hesitated for a moment, fiddled nervously with the front of her dress. "I always understood....I never blamed you but I did grieve, Art. For months."

"I'm sorry."

"That's not what I..." The girl looked up then and her eyes were shining with tears. "It is I who...I have come to ask for your permission...your forgiveness..."

"What is it Gwen? Is it Elyan? Are you in trouble?"

Gwen gave a sort of hysterical laugh.

"No it's - oh it's so like you to assume I need to be rescued in some way!" She wiped her eyes and looked her full in the face. "I wish to marry."

It came like a blow to the chest, startling, forcing the air from her lungs. It was hard to speak for a moment.

"You wish to marry...a man," she managed eventually.

"Yes my lady." Gwen's expression flickered momentarily to something that might have verged on bitter. "What else?"

Artura didn't mistake her. She had hurt Gwen with her weakness, with her failure to do her duty once. Now it was time to make it right. She stood a little straighter, put her hands behind her back.

"You have served me better than any," she said stiffly. "If you wish to wed then of course you have my permission and my blessing but if this is merely...if you wish to leave my service and see marriage as the only way to do so, please know that I would do everything in my power to help you find another position."

"It's not that."

"Then you love this man?"

The way Gwen's face lit up then was difficult to behold.

"Yes."

"Then it is done," Artura said gruffly, soldier-like, trying to ignore the helpless sensation that the most precious thing in her life was slipping away from her.

"No," said Gwen, "I haven't explained yet. It's - "

"You do not think I will approve of the match?"

"We never meant for it to happen," Gwen began. "And we do not for a moment expect you to allow it, but we cannot...we couldn't bear to deceive you..."

"What on earth can be the matter? Is he a sorcerer?"

Gwen shook her head, tears freely flowing down her cheeks.

"It's Lancelot," she whispered.

\----------

In spite of Artura's instructions Gaius would not hear of Merlin doing anything until he had taken a look at her back.

"You heal quickly," he said as she pulled her shirt back down, enjoying the tingly numbness of whatever ointment he had applied. "Most likely it's something to do with your magic, but you should still be resting."

Merlin shrugged.

"I'd rather be here with you."

The old man peered at her, frowning.

"I take it from your pensive expression that all did not go smoothly yesterday."

Merlin grimaced. "Far from it," she said and related briefly what had transpired with Lancelot by the lake, leaving out - gods knew why - the part about Gwen.

"It's only a matter of time now before he tells her," she said. An odd emptiness seemed to have settled over her since last night. There was fear, but it was buried beneath the simplicity of the knowledge that she could not possibly let them take her alive. She had been prepared to die before, when she sent Rosana and the others ahead in the woods. She would be again but it was harder somehow, with time to think about it, not knowing when the axe would fall.

Gaius seemed to know what she was thinking and took her hand.

"Do not give up hope, child. You cannot know what the future holds."

That Lancelot chose that moment to enter the tent was enough to relieve her of her composure completely. She stood up with a sound that was half laugh half sob, trying to fight the urge to run. There was nothing to be gained from giving in to her fear.

"Can I help you, Sir Knight?" Gaius took a step forward protectively.

"I need to speak with the prisoner, if you can spare her of course."

"By all means," said Gaius, sitting down again deliberately with a gracious smile, motioning for him to join them. The knight looked uncomfortable.

"Might I...might I ask her to come outside with me? I do not wish to disturb your work."

"Absolutely not," said Gaius blithely. "Merlin needs rest and care and anything you wish to say on the subject of her magical abilities you can say in front of me."

Lancelot stared at him open mouthed.

"You knew?"  
  
The old man fixed him with a flinty stare. There was an unexpected steeliness to Gaius that Merlin was only beginning to get a sense of.

"I did," he said. "And Merlin told me of your meeting yesterday."

The Knight's eyes narrowed.

"Oh indeed."

"She told me that she could not explain without betraying my knowledge of her powers, that I had ordered her to search for you and so, quite understandably, you suspected her magic could outstrip the constraints of the binding, placing the Princess in danger."

Lancelot glanced towards Merlin with a quick searching look - he had obviously not expected her to keep his secret - and it helped Merlin to find her tongue.

"Have you told the princess yet?"

Lancelot shook his head and she let out a ragged sigh of relief.

"I have thought long about it and I come with a choice for you."

Merlin swallowed and nodded.

"I do not come to bargain secrets. Guinevere is speaking to the princess now about what you learned yesterday so you have no hold over us in that way. I simply aim to do what is right."

"Giving me to Uther is not right," she said hotly. "Forcing me to use magic to hurt my own people is not - "

Gaius seemed to know better than to ask questions and made do with putting a steadying hand on her shoulder. It was surprisingly comforting to feel the warmth of it.

"I know," said the knight, slightly desperately. "I see that, and so I wish to suggest an alternative."

Gaius raised an eyebrow.

"The binding only restricts your magic when you wish to use it to harm or disobey us," he went on, "but you can otherwise use your magic freely within these parameters, is that correct?"

She nodded hesitantly.

"I know that means you cannot directly cause the princess harm, but I cannot on my conscience allow her to be unknowingly subjected to the danger of unchecked magic."

"But I-"

"However, if you will allow me to use the binding to completely repress your magic, I will be able to keep you secret without risk or dishonour."

Merlin swallowed.

"You mean...I won't be able to do any magic at all?"

"Indeed."

"For how long?” She drew a ragged breath. “Forever?"

"I cannot say for certain but - "

"Do you realise what it is you ask?" Gaius couldn't help interrupting. "We have no idea what subjecting her to that will do."

Lancelot glanced at her regretfully.

"It is all I can offer. If you refuse I must make your secret known to the princess immediately."

A choice between losing her magic or placing it in the hands of Uther was no choice at all.

"Alright," she said, balling her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. Gaius' hand gripped tighter around her shoulder.

"Merlin! You must consider - "

"There is nothing to consider," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I have no choice, so do it quickly and get it over with."

Lancelot ran a hand through his hair, looking uncertain for a moment, and then straightened up.

"Very well. I command that you do not use your magic in any way until I give you permission..." Merlin felt his words register in her body with a shiver but the knight looked suddenly uncertain, sheepish. "Is that...is that all I need to do?"

Merlin reached for her magic tentatively and felt it ripple uselessly within her, just beyond her reach.

"It worked," she said, feeling nauseous.

"I need to be sure," said Lancelot. "I need to know that even the binding cannot be used to summon it. Gaius?"

The old man's expression darkened.

"My dear," he said, his mouth a thin line. "Please use your magic to light this candle."

Merlin felt her arm raise to obey, but when she felt for her magic her stomach exploded with pain and she doubled over in agony.

"Good grief child," the old man exclaimed, stooping to tend to her.

"I think it worked," she gasped, pulling herself up, the cramps evaporating as quickly as they had arrived.

"Forgive me my dear," said Gaius. "I never imagined..."

Merlin gave him a weak smile but the situation was already hitting her. Magic was what made her who she was, and it was very last on a dwindling list of things that could keep her safe. She supposed this was what it was like to be normal. But then again people like Will and Rosana who didn't have magic had other strengths and skills that she did not - they certainly had never seemed as vulnerable and pathetic as she currently felt.

"I trust you are satisfied," said Gaius coldly. Lancelot nodded.

"For what it's worth," he said, "I am sorry."


End file.
